


Cat's got your tongue

by Castastrophe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Kittens, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, This is ridiculous, Tumblr Prompt, cannot stress that enough, i am almost embarrassed by the fluff, like TOOTH ROTTING fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 22:25:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1581620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castastrophe/pseuds/Castastrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from tumblr "Could you maybe do one where Cas gets attacked by something ridiculously unthreatening, like a duck or a kitten, and dean has to save him?"</p><p>Dean often ignores his cell phone, especially when he suspects that Sam is the caller.<br/>When it's Castiel on the other end of the line, however, with a desperate plea for help, Dean doesn't need to be asked twice.<br/>Even if the direness of the situation is a LITTLE exaggerated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cat's got your tongue

Dean ignored his phones at the best of times.

Usually, whenever he answered, it would be Sammy bitching about dishes he’d left in the sink. Sometimes it’d be Sammy bitching about their lack of cases, or Dean’s sometimes-a-little-more-than-necessary drinking habits, or the fact that Dean had left him at the bunker when he’d _told_ Dean he needed to cross reference at the local library.

Basically, phone calls meant a bitchy little brother.

So when he was indulging in a mid afternoon nap, and the familiar vibration of his cell phone rang out from the table, where he had nestled into one of his old jackets and promptly dozed off, he barely bat an eyelid as he hit the ignore button.

It rang again, however, and a small huff of annoyance escaped his lips as he swatted at the offending device once again.

"I don’t even know why you have a phone if you don’t bother answering it anyway," Sam chided from what sounded like the other side of the table, and Dean blearily flipped him the bird as he nestled further into his jacket cocoon. That is, until a thought struck him, and he reluctantly raised his head.

Sam was _here_. Telling him to answer his phone, that was ringing, and obviously _not_ ringing because of his pain in the ass giant of a brother.

As the phone persisted through another few rings, Dean sat up and reached for it, confusion filtering through his still sleep fueled brain as he briefly registered the caller ID and raised the device to his ear, hitting the answer button in the process.

"Cas?" He sniffed, running a hand across his eyes as he willed them to begin proper functions.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas urged through the phone, voice strained, and Dean was abruptly no longer tired. He’d heard that tone before, and he had never been in a rush to hear it again.

"Cas, where are you? What’s going on?" He pressed, already standing and pulling on his jacket, as Sam looked up at him with worry in his eyes.

“ _Dean, I require assistance,_ " The angel offered, a tremor to his tone, an uncomfortable break in between his words, " _I have encountered a… I’ve encountered a problem._ ”

"Where are you, Cas?" Dean pressed, swallowing back on the thick knot of worry that had already settled in his throat as he snatched the keys from the table, "I’m on my way."

Dean threw a look at Sam and gestured that he would fill him in with a phone call. This wasn’t the first time that their angel of the Lord had encountered a problem that had turned out to be something small, only after the brothers had dropped everything and ran. They had a system now - one would man the bunker, and the other would scout the situation before confirming a need for backup or not. 

Castiel then provided a local address, which Dean was grateful of, before he was off and on his way.

 

* * *

 

Dean pulled up to the warehouse located at the address he’d been provided, and his mind span through scenario after scenario, as he withdrew his gun and focused on calming his breathing.

Castiel was a weak spot, of that, Dean knew. Castiel in danger, however, was a catastrophic distraction, and Dean barely knew how to hold himself together when his fingers seemed to refuse to stop their tremors.

As he approached the door and cautiously opened it, he peered into the stretching darkness, vaguely making out a solid room in the corner of the vast expanse of leftover sheet metal and work benches. His eyes, trained and alert, constantly scanned the room, but danger seemed absent as he inched towards the room.

He heard Castiel’s voice then, a murmur through the walls, words barely distinguishable even as he drew nearer. 

Then, a sneeze.

Dean felt the familiar tug of confusion that Castiel in general brought, before reaching over and cautiously opening the door.

“ _Dean,”_ Cas breathed, seated atop a desk, eyes red rimmed and swollen, “Thank the Lord that you are here.”

Dean swept his gaze across the room, no immediate danger present, before feeling the distinct prickle of an oncoming sneeze creeping through his nose. He then looked at Cas’ feet, where the cause became immediately apparent.

Four ginger kittens were circling, paws propped up along the bars of the table, vying for the former angel’s attentions. Castiel let out a bark of a sneeze then, terror across his face as he pointed accusingly at the litter. Dean felt an odd swell of both amusement, affection, and mild exasperation as he looked between the kittens and his friend.

"They are practicing witchcraft of some sort," The former angel stared, unblinking, at the ginger balls of fur before him, "Their presence is toxic. I can feel my throat closing, my airways shutting off. My eyes _burn_ , Dean. I do not know how to deal with them.”

"Generally with antihistamines," Dean replied dryly, before stooping to pick one of the kittens up and letting out a roaring sneeze of his own, finding further amusement in the widening of Castiel’s eyes, as if to ask _What are you_ **doing** _, Dean?_

"You have an allergy to cats, Cas," the hunter smirked, "And you’ve let an almighty angel of the Lord be bailed up by a bunch of kittens."

"I find no humour in this situation," Cas huffed indignantly, another sneeze tearing through him.

"I don’t get it, you’ve dealt with cats before," Dean shrugged, thrusting the kitten in Castiel’s direction, the latter seizing slightly, before reaching calloused hands to take the animal and study it with curiosity.

"I was in possession of grace. It must have staved off the reaction. They are not… endangering?" He asked suspiciously, as the kitten mewled and pawed at the ex-angel’s fingers. Dean bit back another snort of laughter as Castiel’s head tilted, a familiar gesture in what was otherwise one of the strangest call outs that Cas had made. 

"Apart from maybe a few bites or claw marks, not in the slightest," Dean teased, sneezing once more as he picked up the other three and thrust them in Castiel’s direction. The former angel took them in his arms, and Dean paused to pull his cell from his pocket, taking a quick photo as one of the kittens made an attempt to clamber up an all too familiar trenchcoat, and a soft smile licked at the corner of Castiel’s lips.

Dean’s breath caught a little in his throat, a burst of warmth flooding his chest, and he forcefully reminded himself that now was not the time to be sentimental over an ethereal being in a trenchcoat and a bunch of damn kittens. As one of them curled on Castiel’s lap and butted its head against the man’s hand, however, Dean felt his own smile tug at his lips.

"I see," Castiel murmured, his voice slightly husked from allergens as he scratched the kitten behind the ears, "They are somewhat… endearing."

"I know the feeling," Dean murmured, and Castiel raised his eyes, smile still along his lips as he held Dean’s gaze, before shyly looking away and placing the kittens back on the floor.

Dean swallowed thickly, but it didn’t stop the waves of unwanted affection crashing over him, even as Castiel stood and tried in vain to brush cat fur from his coat. He stepped forward involuntarily, and ran a hand along the tan material, dusting off as much fur as he could help with, fingers moving autonomously. 

"Pity we’re both allergic. I bet Sammy’d love a few pets around the house," Dean croaked nonchalantly, only looking up when he noticed that Castiel had stopped his own attempts at removing the fur and instead, had his eyes glued on the hunter’s. Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, making an attempt to create distance between them, but Castiel snatched at his wrist, that soul piercing gaze fixed solely on Dean.

His voice was low as he spoke, a single syllable that always had the strangest effect of making his heart beat faster, his blood to slow, and his head to spin all at once.

"Dean…"

And God damn it if his eyes were puffy, his nose a mess, and he had a kitten or two attempting to climb their way up his jeans, all he wanted, _yearned_ for in that moment, was to bridge that gap even further and take Castiel’s lips with his own.

And so, even as Castiel looked on in growing curiosity, head tilted, that was exactly what he did.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This gave me cavities just writing it. Ugh.  
> Still, thank you for reading kitten fluff, cause ohmygosh, why? But still, thank.


End file.
